Giving head, giving thanks!

So here I am, mopping up at the end of Sommer Marsden’s amazing Blow Hard Tour 2009. C’mere, a little to the left … some on your face. There, that’s better.

Apologies for my lateness, I’ve been knocked off course by the bigotry and homophobia that is Amazon. But look, the latest is sorry folks, just a glitch! – and let’s pretend that spokesman didn’t say anything at all and hope no one views this poorly disguised volte-face as a massive insult to the intelligence of the thousands of people who’ve been up in arms about this issue. Just a glitch! Noting to worry about, you silly, silly people!

Anyway, blowjobs. Yum! I have to confess, I missed much of the tour. I’ve been sick and the most I’ve wanted to put in my mouth recently is a few spoonfuls of yoghurt so I’m still playing catch up. Was there a lot of cock? Did anyone get jaw ache? Has Alison Tyler got hurty knees or does she have callouses there already?

My second book, Asking for Trouble, is ten years old this year. Ten! My central character, Beth, says:

I love cocks. I love looking at them. I love sucking them. It turns me on hugely. I know some women say, ‘Yeah, giving a blowjob, it’s OK but you only really do it in part-exchange, don’t you?’ But I disagree. I genuinely love it.

Beth is speaking for me and, I think it’s safe to say, for lots of women as the Blow hard Tour has shown! A huge thanks to Sommer for throwing the party. You’ve made many people very happy!

To round things off and, because desire never ends, to get them going again, here’s an excerpt from my latest novel, Split. Kate has been cornered by Eddie, the brother of Jake, the guy she’s falling in love with. Eddie is a bit of a bastard.

SPLIT

He took a step towards me and I took a step back. He moved closer again.

He was broad-chested and muscular, and I’m short and dumpy but it hardly mattered. I was scared of him, irrespective of size, but I wasn’t going to let it show. My heart was going pitter-patter and I swallowed hard. ‘You’re invading my personal space,’ I said in the most assertive voice I could muster.

I was backed against a section of wall between two door jambs and he placed his hands either side of me. He grinned down, cocky and gloating, his brawny arms inches from my head, his Celtic tattoo a blue-black chain of geometric links. He kept his body at a distance from mine and I could easily have ducked under his arms but this, I guessed, was a slower game of wits.

I had a bag over my shoulder. I let it fall then kept perfectly still, trying to block out the scent of his sweat, his masculine beeriness, and how grubbily excited I was to have him threatening me with his bulk. In front of me, that great block of a chest lifted gently with his breath, and I got to see the sprinkles of stubble on his jaw, the spidery blood vessels in his eyes, the hairs in his nostrils, the smallness of an ear lobe. With the sudden close focus of him after a couple of drinks, that’s how his face seemed: not whole but a messed up jigsaw of fragments, a pub-goer’s Picasso.

‘No,’ he said coolly. ‘You’re invading my personal space.’ I saw the crooked arrangement of his bottom teeth, and I pressed my head against the wall, not wanting him any closer and yet wishing he would try. I swallowed again, trying to get saliva into my dry mouth. Adrenaline sharpened my senses and I felt very sober, very alert.

‘So what’s the deal here?’ he said without anger.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I replied.

I DIDN’T TRUST HIM

He looked at me, smiling faintly, and I had to turn away. ‘What’s your name, pretty lady,’ he said. He knuckled a finger beneath my chin, tipping my head to make me face him.

I looked up, wondering what to tell him. His mocking tenderness intimidated me. I didn’t trust him. And yet I thrilled to the set up: me captive and meek, trapped by this smooth, smiling, unpredictable bully, the brother of the man I was falling for.

‘Kate,’ I replied thickly.

He nodded. ‘Kate,’ he repeated, and, with gentle pressure, he trailed the knuckled finger down my neck, pressing lightly on my throat before resting it in the dip of my collar bones.

I felt weak at the knees so I closed my eyes, fighting my lust. I could feel sweat prickle under my arms, across the small of my back, and my eyelids felt thin enough for him to see through and peer into my brain. I could sense him looking and I could smell him, the pub on his clothes and the deodorant-tinged sweat. Closing my eyes probably wasn’t a great idea. Instead of sight, I had a blank space in my head where imagination could thrive, knocking visual reality for six with its flood of dark possibilities.

‘Tell me about Jake,’ he said softly, and I heard his hand move to the wall again. […] ‘What do you two do together? Mmm? Does he let you play with his dollies?’

I opened my eyes and scowled.

He smiled down at me. ‘Where did he find you, sweetheart?’

I turned aside, gazing at the hand by my head and his stout wrist, refusing to answer.

‘Tell Uncle Eddie,’ he said. ‘Go on. Talk to me, Kate. Did he get you on t’ internet?’

‘It’s none of your business,’ I murmured.

‘Ah, so he did. […] Tell me,’ he said again, the wheedling tone back in his voice. ‘Does he fuck you nicely?’

‘You’re sick,’ I muttered.

‘I know. That’s what all the girls say.’ He angled towards me, tattoo stretching as he did a few vertical press-ups against the wall. Again, I tried to escape, my head pushing back as if the wall might yield. ‘Do you like it sick? Does Jake?’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Do you get off on it?’ As I spoke, I realised taking him on felt better than resistance. ‘Do you? Does it turn you on to think of your brother fucking me?’

‘Yes,’ he said calmly. ‘A lot.’ He smiled, and traced two fingers over my lips, lingering there in an offering. So I parted my lips, not knowing if I would suck or bite. I licked and nibbled his fingertips, feeling the rough texture of labour in his skin. There was a malty, beery taste to them, and they were warm and thick, his fingernails smooth against the ridges of my teeth. My eyes were locked on his, staring into the steel grey shards of each iris, and I released his fingers briefly to say, ‘He’s always fucking me. We’ve hardly stopped since I got here.’

DO YOU LIKE SUCKING COCK?

Eddie tried to keep his face impassive but I saw the faintest flutter in his nostrils as his breathing went a little wrong. ‘How does he fuck you?’ he asked. ‘Hard and fast? Or good and slow? How do you like it, Kate?’

‘I like it all ways,’ I mumbled, and I made eyes at him as I drew his fingers deeper into my mouth, tongue lashing as I mock-fellated.

He stepped closer, body resting lightly against mine as he fed me more of his fingers. ‘Do you like sucking cock?’ he asked, and his body pressed harder.

The slab of his torso flattened my breasts, and his groin dug into my belly. I mumbled around his fingers and slowly he slid them out, awaiting my answer.

‘Love it,’ I breathed, and I gaped for his fingers again, sucking firmly when he returned them, tongue twirling, teeth scraping.

After a little more of this silliness, he said, ‘Unzip me, Katie. Unbuckle my belt and unzip me.’

I wanted to so much it hurt. I didn’t like him one iota. I’d had it in mind I might bite his fingers or laugh in his face if he tried taking it too far. And now he’d done precisely that, and I couldn’t laugh because my fingers seemed to be on his belt, slowly undoing him, wondering whether I’d go through with this or pull back and scoff when he was exposed and vulnerable. His erection was pushing behind the denim and I cupped the bulge of him, reaching down to graze my nails over his balls where the fabric was faded and soft.

‘Get my dick out,’ he said, and seconds later I had his zip undone because I couldn’t resist that instruction. He pushed jeans and underwear onto his hips, and his cock bounced out, thick and sturdy just as he was.

I melted, flesh turning to wet lust. […] He stepped back and I dropped to my knees. I shuffled closer, sex throbbing, juices slick. My mouth was open and I was about to swallow him when he put his hand on my forehead, stopping me.

‘Manners, Katie,’ he said. ‘What happened to your manners?’

I pushed against his hand, eager to defy him and have him filling my cheeks, but his block was rigid.

‘You don’t get this for free,’ he said, giving himself a little shake. ‘I want you to ask. I want to know how much you want this dick.’

Split is available from Barnes and Noble, Waterstones, Random House (where you can peek inside) and many other good bookshops but Amazon can fuck right off!